


Tonight, Tonight

by vincen0ir



Category: The Mighty Boosh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vincen0ir/pseuds/vincen0ir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shitty thing I wrote at 10 PM because Noelian is kind of perfect. Also, this is kind of for Kayla because without her, I would never have even looked up this wonderful pair of gayboys. x</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight, Tonight

They were like Yin and Yang, two completely different forces locked inside one another with no means of escape. It's not like either minded, of course.

They had stopped being "Noel" and "Julian" ages ago. Now, it was "NoelandJulian", no spaces allowed, no breaths to be taken between names. They were a lucrative two-person country whose borders were nearly always closed.

Over the years, their bond had increased significantly - at first, it was a case of getting together for a drink every so often, coming over to write, maybe having dinner if neither had plans. Now, it was going out for dinner when Julian was too lazy to cook, having a glass or two of Lambrusco as they mulled over their plans for the week, curling up under a ragged blanket and watching old sitcoms to try and come up with ideas. Mostly, it was a lot of stolen glances that travelled from eyes to lips as fast as the speed of sound, the occasional hand lingering too long in the warm, safe clutch of the other. That's what they were.

They'd kind of stopped seeing other people a long time ago, too. Since Julian moved in, really. Mike and Dave still came over frequently, full of jokes and banter and endless hours of laughter. The four of them would just exist, no arguments, no "you-took-my-girlfriend-you-bastard", just utter co-existence of the most peaceful and serene kind. Besides those two, their regular relationships just kind of.. stopped. They'd go out for a drink with a friend every so often, listen to never-ending tales of lost keys and proposals and big fancy weddings to perfect trophy wives, all those stories stored away only to be lost when the night was over. They didn't exactly say "ooh, Rich had a nice wedding, do you think we should do the same?" It was more a case of "let's ask the magic 8-ball and then get Chinese, okay?"

The first time Noel really ever thought about getting married was at 3 AM in the morning while Julian slept beside him. A small smile curled his lips up as he watched the rise and fall of his chest, like empires waiting to be made and broken. Each rise was the flap of a butterfly's fragile wing, each fall the crumble of another mighty monument that resides in the memory of dusty GSCE history textbooks. He'd watch the way Julian's eyes fluttered, the way he twitched occasionally, the way the moonlight reflected off his skin. It wasn't exactly a gigantic, gay, "I want to have endless gay sex with you in the Bahamas" thought, it was more of a "I really want to wake up at 3 AM and watch you sleep because it makes me feel not quite so alone" thought, the kind that makes your chest feel fuzzy and your cheeks start to liven up with the hint of a blush. It was the kind of thought that made you really, really, really start to fall in love.

The first time Julian thought about proposing to Noel was when he was looking through a magazine - some trashy, neon-coloured piece that the raven-haired, esoteric man had picked up. Julian had shook his head, stated that those kind of magazines were the scum of the Earth and please, please, can you not buy it because it's got one of those fucking Kardashians on the front and I can't stand them. (Evidently, Noel didn't listen.) Upon arriving back at their flat, he'd found a spot on their stained, worn-out couch and started flipping through the flossy pages, blue orbs desperate to absorb whatever news that the object held. Julian had just sat and watched him in complete awe - he loved the way that Noel would hook his middle and index finger around a lock of hair and tuck it behind one pale ear, eyes still focused on skinny stars and their muscly husbands. He adored the way the younger male would bite his lip, chewing it thoughtfully before muttering 'this is utter shit' and flicking to the next page, almost as if he were completely unconscious of the words that had left his mouth, that wonderful mouth that curled into the cheekiest, most heart-melting smile that anyone could ever produce.

They hadn't even thought about marriage till late one December night, snow silently falling from the inky ebony sky in listless waves, coating the chewing gum-speckled cement beneath their feet. They'd been this way for almost 4 years - unofficial, secretive, sharing prolonged gazes and secretive smiles that meant nothing and everything at the same time. 

"Do you reckon we'll ever, y'know, get married?" Julian asks, one eyebrow raised as he glances down at Noel, who's watching the snow and how his boots make temporary impressions.

"Maybe. If they allow it," he jokes, kicking around powdery white and drawing meaningless squiggles. 

"I think we should, some day. Like, it'd be nice. Us." Julian's always loved the sound of the word "us", never things like "you and me" or "me and my baby". They are them, a singular unit that houses two reckless, raffish people that have thrown themselves in love without really meaning to.

"Are you proposing to me, because I'm not accepting unless Elvis is the minister." Noel can't help but crack an enormous smile, nudging Julian in the ribs and letting a small laugh fill the otherwise deadly quiet night. 

".. Elvis is dead, you berk." He ruffles Noel's dark hair that always smells of coconut and kiwi. His leather jacket smells of musk and jasmine, seductive and strange tucked away in one eccentric package.

"I mean, like, an impersonator or something."

"An impersonator might work." A smile creeps up on Julian's lips, because Noel practically has the answer to his question, he's just waiting for that one little gear to go off.

"So.. Wait, you are proposing?" One small nod indicates yes, and when Noel throws his arms round Julian, he swears he's never felt more connected to the man that's hugging him tightly, whispering 'yes' in his ear at a million miles per hour. In that moment, as snow falls around them in delicate patterns, decorating their hair and melting into it, they've never been more intimate and more close. They are them, they are all that matters. In the dark of night, in the harsh, judging Camden sunlight, they are together and they are the most important people in the world. When the scent of incense is floating round their bedroom, encapsulating and giving off a luxurious scent, they will be locked in each other's arms. When moonlight is filtering through their chiffon curtains, bouncing off the tiny mirrors sewn into the Indian-style queen duvet that Noel chose when they first decided that two single beds just weren't working, they will be Noel and Julian, no breaths allowed between names. That's how it's always been, and that's how it's going to stay. They are alone together, the sole survivors of a storm that knocked out millions of couples. They are Rose and Jack, Jack and Sally, Howard and Vince.

They are Noel and Julian, a single unit.

And that's exactly how they like it.


End file.
